


Four short stories. Sci-Fi genre

by CocoaSnapple



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aliens, Diary/Journal, Future, Modern Era, One-Sided Attraction, Post-Apocalypse, Robots, Science Fiction, this is college work bois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 14:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19200346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CocoaSnapple/pseuds/CocoaSnapple
Summary: Four short sci-fi stories written for my college project. Two first-person stories told through diaries and journals. Two in third-person.V, a robot millions of years in the future. The only machine left on Earth writing journals of his sunset days. Final Machine.Diary logs of an Artificial human, in the somewhat distant future. Discovering art and emotion through a small journal. The people of MorrowEve, a woman trapped floating in space inside an old spacecraft. Alone with twin AI's she falls madly in love with a star. Desolate AdmirerArgent, in a modern world like our own where aliens are commonplace amongst our society. Stuck as a receptionist for freelance detectives he ponders to himself. Moon Man





	1. Final Machine

Oxygen levels 28%

Temperature: 61.5 degrees Fahrenheit

Fuel levels: Red

Date: Corrupted

Time: Corrupted

Vision: Stable

Hearing: Stable

Movement: 78%

Reboot in process…

Log: $&%£!&$ Date: £%$&?@+

Model Number: H-274703-Unit74820

After a recent shut-down, much of my data became corrupt. Many of my past logs and now either gone or corrupt. My date and log numbers have become corrupt as well, as such I must write a refresher log if my main memory ever corrupts. As such, my name is V, the only remaining machine on this Earth. Although much of my memory is corrupt, I am aware humans once roamed this Earth reasons they vanished however are missing from my memory. 

Memory of my model type still exists however, I was designed as medical help for both animatronic and biological functions in humans or robots. I can’t help but notice a flaw in this function however, looking down at my body it is rusted like a human’s infection, crusty and oily. What worth is there if this function cannot even help myself? I’d want to ask the humans this, however they are only a distant dream.

Log: &^£_/@$% Date: ?><@T£

From analysing the area, I’ve made a discovery, or might I say rediscovery. It appears there is still remnants of humans, though they do not look like the humans in some remaining records I still possess it appears to be some sort of evolution.

They are much larger than the last records of humans I possessed, taller and muscles much thicker. If they can be considered a new species or not would depend on what information I could gather from their DNA but no technology is available to me here. Their tongue is one I’ve not been programmed with, I cannot understand what they say and neither can they but I will make attempts to look after them as the remnants of humanity. It was my duty to take care of them it’s the most I can fulfil now.

However, a major issue I must face currently is fuel, a few simple drops are only left in my tanks of an unknown fluid. It is not likely any mass-produced fuel is left so I must create my own, though it’s a mystery how I may accomplish this. Maybe my body will stop working all together before I do.

Log: &£()?<| Date:^£+!?>

There is another major concern that has developed, predators. Apex to be precise, while looking at old records creatures such as wolves and spiders used to be much smaller its…Somewhat unnerving to see multiple legs moving all at the same time, powerful venom from their jaws it’s a good thing venom cannot affect my body however acidity may do some internal and external damage in my body. 

Last night while I was looking for some possible fuel an alligator almost crushed me after leaping off a tree, few of these new humans have been eaten alive by it appearing to lack any fear or urgency towards these predators. Only by action can I teach them fear, if they understand what death is at all.

…Sometimes, I feel a strange feeling in my chest, it does not appear to be a malfunction either. I wonder, what would of W have done if he was still around, unlike me he was built for combat those predators were no problem for him that I remember. Why he once wrestled a snake to death! Yes, it had eaten O earlier and the metallic body had cut up its insides the wrestling was still quite the spectacle.

I plan however to explore some ruins I discovered during a patrol earlier today. It appears to be some sort of factory ruins, I doubt any technology would be working there but any sort of metal scraps would be a good haul for the village. Mayhap I can give them old pipes to learn self-defence. 

Log: %*$@|”>: Date:+_)@^%£$

Found a dented metal plate today, not totally rusted either and enough to possibly make some sort of flimsy knife. They’ve begun to learn how to create fires of late, it’s like they’re on the edge of the stone age. I wish I had some sort of way to photograph it but I was not built with one…

But, what reason should I have for wanting to photograph it? It’s not like I can show it to the others they’re all gone and I doubt the technology to access the files will be developed soon. Why have I been bothering to still create my logs? The only thing left I can do anymore with my body growing weaker. I’ve felt my consciousness fade often recently, light-headed as some humans would call it.

Poisoned berries seemed to have fruit near the village, two children have already died eating them. In the end I had to uproot it before any others ate it with how oblivious they are to danger.

I fear for their safety once I break, A would have done a better job I’ll ever do. Everything just fell apart without her, W was the only one of us that stayed with me till the end. Whilst attempting some repairs on my body I remembered something, before I shut down W was with me. Some of his parts are in my body, he sacrificed his parts for me so I could live.

His reasons why it was me? I’m not sure. But, I want to find the remains of his body at least.

Log: >”?>*&^%$£ Date:£%^%:”>>:”

1 f0und 1t

G0n3

M1s$ W

My b0dy

8rok3n

Ru$ty cr@cked

F£ell d0wn c1iff

L3gs sn@pp3d

CPU br0k3n

1 fe3l…

Sc@red...

I feel the sun

Warming my body

0xyg£n l£vels: ERROR

T£mper@ture: ERROR

Fue\ l£ve\s: ERROR

D@te: ERROR

T1me: ERROR

V1si0n: ERROR

He@rin?: ERROR

M0vem£nt: ERROR

 

01010100 01101000 01100001 01101110 01101011 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01010111


	2. The people of Morrow

Date: 89/7/12

This book, a diary I believe. I found it wedged between the bed corners of this apartment with a rickety pencil. Many of the pages were ripped out, apart from one with the two words ‘Six Months’ warning maybe but to me they are empty words. Empty as this room, it only exists for my basic needs apart from a stove; meals are delivered each morning and each night. Rooms are kept sterile and clean whenever we are sent off to work.

Who knows how many are in this complex, possibly thousands of this exact room, visiting other rooms are prohibited so it’s not like I’d know.

Perhaps, I’ll use this book to pass the time; there are no others here or any personal objects. I heard from a loud-mouth, normal humans have completely personalised homes. It’s strange, why would someone go through all that effort to pretty up a placed designed to restore your health and energy for work.

I suppose I have no right to try and understand, being an artificial human.

Date: 89/8/6

Perhaps it’s time I finally start writing in this book again, although it is highly advocated against to steal in any form for us I took a pencil from my work place. The original snapped though it is not a surprise it did, more that it didn’t happen sooner. I may need a sharpener next time; from what I’ve used they snap easily.

Art, I’ve been thinking of the subject recently. We have no creative or emotional drives to create art, when I look at splotches of colour I don’t feel or see any worth in them. Yet my boss plasters them everywhere in my workplace, some more detailed than others.

Though I will admit this to no-one but myself, I have made…some attempts at ‘art’ but they’re what my boss describes are plain and boring, straight lines drawn across a page. A square on the other page, none with any colour I don’t have access to that. What would I do with colour though, what use could I get out of them if I don’t understand their existence.

I don’t even have a name, how could I have a preference for colour or shapes?

Date: 89/9/20

Flowers, flowers are strange.

Normal humans pay so much money for real ones, those same ones which wither away and die so quickly as opposed to fake flowers which never wilt. Perhaps it’s their rarity, though I don’t know much about history I believe flowers began to die out in 2045? If humans care so much about them why did they start to die in the first place?

Something called trees used to be a thing too apparently, though I’ve never seen a real one before. Green, oranges and reds they could be supposedly, mostly green.

Someone said, ‘green is the colour of nature’ but why use a dead colour? I guess it’s something I’ll never understand, they supposedly replicate something called the sky here, no ones seen the real sky in years apparently and if it’s even blue or orange anymore.

Everything in this room is such a bright white. Honestly, it’s kind of blinding almost I’d rather if it was maybe painted greyish? The walls are some kind of plastic though so light shines brightly off it. Boss paints the walls of my workplace constantly; recently she painted it ‘purple’ it’s a colour I had never seen before.

Date: 89/10/27

I’ve discovered many humans like to draw landscapes and buildings, opposed to actually taking a picture of it to record any landscapes or buildings. Maybe it’s a way for them to pass the time like I’ve been doing with this book.

Recently I’ve tried sketching some objects I’ve seen on my way to work, not drawing while on the way that’d be suspicious. However, I have memorised what more interesting objected looked like. Humans seem to have an obsession with weirdly shaped benches I’ve been noticing recently, it’s a wonder how they can even sit on them.

However, some new knowledge has come to light about ‘art’ largely from my boss having obsessive rants about it every now and then I’ve learnt quite a bit from her unknowingly. Such as primary colours blue, red and yellow. As such, I stole a red, yellow and blue pencil. 

If anyone were to hear of this I’d be dead where I stand.

Date: 89/11/17

Recently this activity of drawing has been…enjoyable? It’s hard to describe a feeling I was never meant to have. It’s…elating? I like it, a lot I’d admit.

But, with joy there’s sadness, I can never express this as long as this barcode, this mark of what I am exists on my neck. Six months, I ignored it at first but I know what it means, we all do.

After an artificial human is created, they are used for six months until they disposed of. This is done so we do not develop strong emotions, the emotions to rebel against the law. A machine could do what we can but they’re powerful compared to a human body and mind, however a human that isn’t completely human would be much easier to dispose of. Cruel yes, but without sacrifice great foundations cannot be built.

If this means I’m not afraid of my own death?...

I’m not sure anymore.

Date: 89/12/25

Christmas day, we don’t really celebrate Christmas day or get the day off work. Fake snow has been falling over the month to make it look ‘festive’ mostly just cold for me there’s no heating here. 

However, these lights, I’d love to draw them so vibrant and cheerful.

Date: 89/1/12

My last day, the silence here feel so disheartening. I wonder now if the previous owner must have felt this way when he left it here. Why were the pages ripped out? I never considered that.

But, I’ll leave mine here with all the pencils I’ve collected. I’ll hide them for the next person to find it alongside my art, it may not be drawn the best but.

I feel like, there’s some emotion in it.


	3. Desolate Admirer

“Good morning Miss Eve, it has been… 7742 days since departure. Breakfast will be served” 

A mechanical voice echoed thought the cold steel walls of a drifting spacecraft. Lights flickered in the halls, parts that needed replacing yet left to collect dust for years. Alone in this spaceship, was a middle-aged woman locked in this floating prison. Rolling around in her bed in a huff even with the alarm buzzing in her ear, it’s not like time really passes in this ship anymore.

“It is, half eight in Earth time”

“Why does that matter? Hey machine how far away from Earth are we?”

”Unknown, it’s merely a prediction”

With that response she wrapped herself back up, refusing to move an inch. A bowl of oats and a slice of brown toast popped up next to the bed, both smelled of plastic to her. Complete wonder there was still even some food left on this damn spaceship.

“Ughh, can’t you just like…force her out of bed somehow?”

The sound of another AI spoke up, twin AI’s the only company around for miles. For over twenty damned years.

“Ohh she’s up now” mocking tones of one of the AI’s piped up as she threw herself off the bed, dragging herself over to a large window. Somewhere she spent most of her days now, staring at him. The brightest star in space, the only bright star for her in this unmoving void.

“Ahh…Good morning sweetie~” 

“And off she goes…

One of the twins sighed, watching the woman mumble loudly to herself. “Hey, has she even cleaned up the mess she made yesterday?”

Her twin shook her head, yesterday was a gift day for Eve’s star with what limited supplies were left on the ship. Some sort of arts-and-crafts project scattered with hearts and stars all over it. Blotches of glue and paints got all over the floor, and Eve was the only person who could clean it most of the cleaning bots had just broke over the years. However, the stubborn woman was persistent it didn’t bother her, almost even reviling in the mess in a way as if it was a sign her devotion.

To the twins it was just a mess that bothered them to no end programmed to keep the ship in an orderly fashion. And this wasn’t the only time she had done it, why there was still dried likely very expired chocolate dried on the kitchen walls from months ago. The ship was practically a lover’s pigsty!

“Ahh, open widdeee” 

The two turned their attentions back to the women, disgust waved through them.

“Is…IS THAT THE MONTHS OLD CHOCOLATE?”

Watching in horror as Eve smothered it all over the already now murky window, it was only the spot she could see her star she’d ever actually clean. Nothing else outside of that space existed to her anymore, one twin preferred that the other not so much. But the mess both could do without.

“Ohh look at how beautifully he shines, those rounded bright lights that just pierce my heart. Bright beautiful blue lights, how they bless my eyes”

Suddenly, she got up and scrambled towards the kitchen in a hurry. Perhaps to get more out of date chocolate, the twins prayed that would not be the case.

“Miss Eve” the calmer of the two spoke up “How can you be certain that celestial object can understand you?”

“Isn’t obvious? My pure, unyielding emotions will reach him though this glass far into the galaxy. It’s not something you could understand” she replied rather snidely.

“And how could you be certain he’s…not already taken?”

“Well then I’ll…I’ll just destroy the other one! No one can get between our love, not even this glass!”

That proclamation sent a shock through the two; she wasn’t going to break down the glass, was she?

“Miss Eve, might I ask you refrain from shattering any type of glass on this ship unless you perish immediately” it was cold, but truth. But what point was there in stopping her now of all time?

After all they only had a week left of supplies left on the ship now. Her end was drawing near, so why not perish doing what she loved the most? However, a death in space is a painful one, however it’d be quicker than starving to death.

They sighed, unsure of what to tell the woman. Eventually they decided to leave her to mumble at the window. Discussing their plan in secret they shut off any speaker to keep private.

A plan could have been to let her use up all their last supplies in a day of pure joy and fun before letting her waste away staring at her beloved star. However, said process would still be a slow death which would cause distress, the last thing the two wanted.

“Maybe we should suggest some activates for her, increase mental stimulus”

“But wouldn’t that just make her more aware of what’s going on? Do we have any like? Alcohol? That decreases reaction times significantly”

“That is true, I’ll have a look through supply logs as anything alcoholic. Trick her into having a drink with that star”

Supply logs were jumbled to hell and back, due them having to be imputed manually by Eve herself whenever taking something from the supply. Which of course, she never did leaving a four hour goose chase over the hint of some whiskey.

“Ah, I’ve found it! Hundred and ninety third Storage basin on the right, row eight. Approximately five, four point five litres each”

“Right, didn’t we lock this storage to avoid any drunken outbursts? Specifically, for the last humans that were on this ship?”

“Yeah, they’d be pretty crazy with those bottles? Wonder why humans love them so much, do they really like feeling tingly and tired?”

“Tingly and tired? I…don’t believe that’s how alcohol effects humans, it dulls their senses a lot though however and leaves them feeling extreme fatigue the next day”

After the said discovery, two whole bottles were downed in a single night by the woman.


	4. Moon Man

“Ah bonsoir miss this is Planetary Freelance Detectives, are you calling for an appointment? Hmm yes we’re open at eleven o’ clock would you like to book it?... Je vous remercie, I’ll see you then”

Argent sighed after clicking the dial phone back into place, twirling a silver pen between his fingers. As the clock ticked, seconds into minutes, minutes into hours. 

Eventually, after wasting away organising papers and dusting up the eight antique clocks in the reception. There was a click at the door, and four figures entered the room. “Oh bienvenue everyone, how was your erm...”

Four self-proclaimed detectives, Brennen a Martian currently collapsing onto one of the reception sofas. His red bald head covered in scrapes and scratches likely from some sort of fall.

Lód, a distant Neptunian floating around rather cheerfully. A crinkly blue ball of tentacles and eyes, even with her somewhat horrifying appearance she’s the one that keeps everyone from ripping each other apart. Pretty sweet gal all round.

Amarillo, from Jupiter carrying everything into the back storage from their night out. She was very muscular, and of course strong. Sometimes even carrying the group with her four arms when situation demanded it. However, the lower body was a completely different story of hundreds of little insect legs.

And then there was Argent, also referred to as the receptionist by others. A Lunarian, the most human in appearance compared to the rest of the group. Albino in appearance, although his organs differentiated from a human. 

“Wow, all of you look like hell to be frank” he chuckled, Brennen the grump didn’t respond however Lód piped up ever ready for a chat.

“Oh, why they were both chased! I was fine of course floating away to safety. But poor Mr Grump fell down a flight of stairs!”

“Oh non, does he medical attention? It doesn’t look like much is broken from here but I can’t see your ribs from here of course”

“No no, we’re fineee. We’re gonna go out again in a minute anyways so we need someone back her kay?”

“O-oh… yes bien sûr but please remember you can come back to me for any injuries”

She clicked her tentacles enthusiastically “Yeah, yeah go it come on break’s over” dragging the other two back into the dark outdoors.

And with that, he was alone again. Some evidence to sort through but that was mostly it, he didn’t need sleep so it’s not like he was in a hurry to get home. But it left so many empty spaces of time in his schedule, just sitting around being the ‘receptionist boy’ because they couldn’t be bothered to hire and actual receptionist.

It’s been three days he’s been stuck in this office and his shift ended at four day. Half a day off and then right back to work. No field work, no medical work the others were too stubborn to let him do it.

The light of his home, shone through the shutters. It twisted his stomachs, holding them tight and never letting go.

Fumbling behind the desk he found an object of salvation, although pretty broken. An old radio from who knows where, they just sort of found it when first moving into the place. Even if he didn’t care about what people were actually talking about at midnight the sound of talking was music to his ears.

Crackling chatting seeped into the room from the little metal box, mostly just politics. Protests on Pluto over the naming of their home by everyone else, it was an on-going discussion that’s been around for years. Claiming that taking the title of planet away from them would take away their rights.

Eventually they began rambling about Lunarians, that’s when he considered changing the channel. The Moon was a tourist spot of sorts, though it was rare for any Lunarians to actually go down to earth. His mothers and sisters didn’t like the temperature or the colours of the earth, preferring cold colours opposed to many of the warm colours on earth. 

Leaving him as the only Lunarian for miles, possibly the whole of earth there weren’t many of them, most they did when someone died was grow a new baby in a test tube. Being the only brother and son out of a family of a thousand though, it just wasn’t something he could live with every day. Every stare, every question family or human. Maybe that’s why the others were so pushy to keep him locked up as a receptionist, less of a bother if they get approached for it.

“Suppose que je vais devoir prendre les choses en main!”

Grabbing his umbrella from the stand next to the door, deciding not to leave a note of sorts. He just needed some fresh air, maybe for an hour or so no one was likely to call anyways this time of day. It was a cloudless night, moonlight dripping between the city buildings. No stars twinkled in the sky, leaving only the bright moonlight to cover the sky.

It was three in the morning, once the sun would come out he’d have to hide. Damn burning orb hurt his skin, Amarillo said he looked like a corpse with how pale his skin was, almost rubbery in texture.

Crunching twigs under his boots, walking down a thin path onto a smallish park nearby. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any drunks around they should be passed out by now. A few bottles were scattered around by a bench however not a soul was in sight. Sighing he slumped over onto the bench, hoping he didn’t accidently sit on spilt booze or fresh gum.

Large parks like this were non-existent back at home, due to the lack of any actual nature. Ice skating was a very popular pass time however, rinks of earth look so drab compared to the shiny crystalline rinks back home. But on earth, if you made a mistake you could laugh it off with others. On the moon however, it was too competitive to make a mistake.

“Je ne peux pas choisir… Terre ou Lune?...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I used Google Translate. If you've made it to the end of reading all these crap pieces of fiction any feedback is appreciated.
> 
> These stories were put with pictures and book covers I made, if anyones slightly interested I could share them.


End file.
